Two days later Sebastian came to Abbots Puissants. The butler was not sure that Mrs Chetwynd could see him. She was lying down.
Sebastian gave his name and said he was sure Mrs Chetwynd would see him. He was shown into the drawing-room to wait. The room seemed very empty and silent but unusually luxurious – very different from what it had looked in his childish days. He thought to himself, ‘It was a real house then,’ and wondered what exactly he meant by that. He got it presently. Now it suggested, very faintly, a museum. Everything was beautifully arranged, and harmonized perfectly, every piece that was not perfect had been replaced by one that was. All the carpets and covers and hangings were new.
‘And they must have cost a pretty penny,’ thought Sebastian appreciatively, and priced them with a fair degree of accuracy. He always knew the cost of things.
He was interrupted in this salutary exercise by the door opening. Nell came in, a pink colour in her cheeks and her hand outstretched.
‘Sebastian! What a surprise! I thought you were too busy ever to leave London except at a week-end – and not often then!’
‘I’ve lost just twenty thousand pounds in the last two days,’ said Sebastian gruffly as he took her hand. ‘Simply from gadding about and letting things go anyhow. How are you, Nell?’
‘Oh, I’m feeling splendid.’
She didn’t look very splendid, though, he thought, now that the flush of surprise had died away. Besides, hadn’t the butler said she was lying down, not feeling well? He fancied that her face looked a little strained and haggard.
She went on:
‘Sit down, Sebastian. You look as though you were on the point of going off to catch a train. George is away – in Spain. He had to go on business. He’ll be away a week at least.’
‘Will he?’
That was a good thing anyway. A damned awkward business. Nell had simply no idea …
‘You’re very glum, Sebastian. Is anything the matter?’
She asked the question quite lightly, but he seized upon it eagerly. It was the opening he needed.
‘Yes, Nell,’ he said gravely. ‘As a matter of fact there is.’
He heard her draw in her breath with a sudden catch. Her eyes looked watchful.
‘What is it?’ she said.
Her voice sounded different – hard and suspicious.
‘I’m afraid what I’m going to say will be a great shock to you. It’s about Vernon.’
‘What about Vernon?’
Sebastian waited a minute. Then he said:
‘Vernon – is alive, Nell.’
‘Alive?’ she whispered. Her hand crept up to her heart.
‘Yes.’
She didn’t do any of the things he expected her to do – didn’t faint, or cry out, or ask eager questions. She just stared straight ahead of her. And a sudden quick suspicion came into his shrewd Jewish mind.
‘You knew it?’
‘No, no.’
‘I thought perhaps you saw him – the other day – when he came here?’
‘Then it was Vernon?’
It broke from her like a cry. Sebastian nodded his head. It was as he had thought and said to Jane. She had not trusted her eyes.
‘What did you think – that it was a very close resemblance?’
‘Yes – yes, that’s what I thought. How could I think it was Vernon? He looked at me and didn’t know me.’
‘He’s lost his memory, Nell.’
‘Lost his memory?’
‘Yes.’
He told her the story, giving the details as carefully as possible. She listened but paid less attention than he expected. When he had finished she said: ‘Yes – but what’s to be done about it all? Will he get it back? What are we to do?’
He explained that Vernon was having treatment from a specialist. Already, under hypnosis, part of the lost memory had returned. The whole process would not be long delayed. He did not enter into the technical details, judging rightly that these would have no interest for her.
‘And then he’ll know – everything?’
‘Yes.’
She shrank back in her chair. He felt a sudden rush of pity.
‘He can’t blame you, Nell. You didn’t know – nobody could know. The report of his death was absolutely definite. It’s an almost unique case. I’ve heard of one other. In most cases, of course, a report of death was contradicted almost immediately. Vernon loves you enough to understand and forgive.’
She said nothing but she put up both hands to cover her face.
‘We think – if you agree – that everything had better be kept quiet for the present. You’ll tell Chetwynd, of course. And you and he and Vernon can – well, thrash it out together –’
‘Don’t! Don’t! Don’t go into details. Just let’s leave it for the present – till I’ve seen Vernon.’
‘Do you want to see him at once? Will you come up to town with me?’
‘No – I can’t do that. Let him come here – to see me. Nobody will recognize him. The servants are all new.’
Sebastian said slowly: ‘Very well … I’ll tell him.’
Nell got up.
‘I – I – you must go away now, Sebastian. I can’t bear any more. I can’t indeed. It’s all so dreadful. And only two days ago ‘I was so happy and peaceful …’
‘But, Nell – surely to have Vernon back again.’
‘Oh, yes, I didn’t mean that. You don’t understand. That’s wonderful, of course. Oh! do go, Sebastian. It’s awful of me turning you out like this, but I can’t bear any more. You must go.’
Sebastian went. On the way back to town he wondered a good deal.
Left alone, Nell went back to her bedroom and lay down on her bed, pulling the silk eiderdown tightly over her.
So it was true after all. It had been Vernon. She had told herself that it couldn’t be – that she had made a ridiculous mistake. But she’d been uneasy ever since.
What was going to happen? What would George say about it all? Poor George. He’d been so good to her.
Of course there were women who’d married again, and then had found their first husbands were alive. Rather an awful position. She had never really been George’s wife at all.
Oh! it couldn’t be true. Such things didn’t happen. God wouldn’t let –
But perhaps she had better not think of God. It reminded her of those very unpleasant things that Jane had said the other day. That very same day.
She thought with a rush of self-pity: ‘I was so happy …’
Was Vernon going to understand? Would he – perhaps – blame her? He’d want her, of course, to come back. Or wouldn’t he – now that she and George – What did men think?
There could be a divorce, of course, and then she could marry George. But that would make a lot of talk. How difficult everything was.
She thought with a sudden shock: ‘But I love Vernon. How can I contemplate a divorce and marrying George when I love Vernon? He’s been given back to me – from the dead.’
She turned over restlessly on the bed. It was a beautiful Empire bed. George had bought it out of an old château in France. It was perfect and quite unique. She looked round the room – a charming room, everything in harmony – perfect taste, perfect unostentatious luxury.
She remembered suddenly the horsehair sofa and the antimacassars in the furnished rooms at Wiltsbury.
… Dreadful! But they had been happy there.
But now? She looked round the room with new eyes. Of course, Abbots Puissants belonged to George. Or didn’t it, now that Vernon had come back? Anyway, Vernon would be just as poor as ever – they couldn’t afford to live here … there were all the things that George had done to it … thought after thought raced confusedly through her brain.
She must write to George – beg him to come home. Just say it was urgent – nothing more. He was so clever. He might see a way.
Or perhaps she wouldn’t write to him – not till she had seen Vernon. Would Vernon be very angry? How terrible it all was.
The tears came to her eyes. She sobbed: ‘It’s unfair – it’s unfair – I’ve never done anything. Why should this happen to me? Vernon will blame me and I couldn’t know. How could I know?’
Again the thought flitted across her mind:
‘I was so happy!’
Vernon was listening, trying to understand what the doctor was saying to him. He looked across the table at him. A tall thin man with eyes that seemed to see right into the centre of you and to read there things that you didn’t even know about yourself.
And he made you see all the things you didn’t want to see. Made you bring things up out of the depths. He was saying:
‘Now that you have remembered, tell me again exactly how you saw the announcement of your wife’s marriage.’
Vernon cried out:
‘Must we go over it again and again? It was all so horrible. I don’t want to think of it any more.’
And then the doctor explained, gravely and kindly, but very impressively. It was because of that desire not to ‘think of it any more’ that all this had come about. It must be faced now – thrashed out … Otherwise the loss of memory might return.
They went all over it again.
And then, when Vernon felt he could bear no more, he was told to lie down on a couch. The doctor touched his forehead and his limbs, told him that he was resting – was rested – that he would become strong and happy again …
A feeling of peace came over Vernon.
He closed his eyes …
Vernon came down to Abbots Puissants three days later. He came in Sebastian Levinne’s car. To the butler he gave his name as Mr Green. Nell was waiting for him in the little white-panelled room where his mother had sat in the mornings. She came forward to meet him, forcing a conventional smile to her lips. The butler shut the door behind him, just in time for her to stop short before offering him her hand.
They looked at each other. Then Vernon said:
‘Nell …’
She was in his arms. He kissed her – kissed her – kissed her …
He let her go at last. They sat down. He was quiet, rather tragic, very restrained, but for that one wild greeting. He’d gone through so much – so much in these last few days …
Sometimes he wished they’d left him alone – as George Green. It had been jolly being George Green.
He said stammeringly:
‘It’s all right, Nell. You mustn’t think I blame you. I understand … Only it hurts. It hurts like Hell. Naturally.’
She said: ‘I didn’t mean –’
He interrupted her.
‘I know, I tell you – I know! Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to think about it even …’ He added in a different tone: ‘They say that’s my trouble. That’s how it happened.’
She said, rather eagerly: ‘Tell me about it – about everything.’
‘There isn’t much to tell.’ He spoke without interest, abstractedly. ‘I was taken prisoner. How I got to be reported killed, I don’t know. At least I have a sort of vague idea. There was a fellow very like me – one of the Huns. I don’t mean a double – or anything of that sort – but just a general superficial resemblance. My German’s pretty rotten but I heard them commenting on it. They took my kit and my identification disc. I think the idea was to penetrate into our lines as me – we were being relieved by Colonial troops – and they knew it. The fellow would pass muster for a day or so and would gain the information he wanted. That’s only an idea – but it explains why I wasn’t returned in the list of prisoners and I was sent to a camp that was practically all French and Belgians. But none of that matters, does it? I suppose the Hun was killed getting through our lines and was buried as me. I had a pretty bad time in Germany – nearly died with some kind of fever on top of being wounded. Finally I escaped – oh! it’s a long story. I’m not going into all that now. I had the Hell of a time – without food and water sometimes for days at a stretch. It was a sort of miracle that I came through – but I did. I got into Holland. I was exhausted and at the same time all strung up. And I could only think of one thing – getting back to you.’
‘Yes?’
‘And then I saw it – in a beastly illustrated paper. Your marriage. It – it finished me. But I wouldn’t face it. I kept on saying that it couldn’t be true. I went out – I don’t know where I went. Things got all mixed up in my mind.
‘There was a whacking great lorry coming down the road. I saw my chance – end it all – get out of it. I stepped out in front of it.’
‘Oh, Vernon.’ She shuddered.
‘And that was the end. Of me as Vernon Deyre, I mean. When I came to there was just one name in my head – George. That lucky chap, George. George Green.’
‘Why Green?’
‘A sort of fancy of mine when I was a child. And then the Dutch girl at the inn had asked me to look up a pal of hers whose name was Green and I’d written it down in a little book.’
‘And you didn’t remember anything?’
‘No.’
‘Weren’t you very frightened?’
‘No – not at all. I didn’t seem to be worrying about anything.’ He added with lingering regret, ‘I was awfully happy and jolly.’
Then he looked across at her.
‘But that doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters – but you.’
She smiled at him but her smile was flickering and uncertain. He barely noticed it at the moment, but went on.
‘It’s been rather Hell – getting back. Remembering things. All such beastly things. All the things that – really – I didn’t want to face. I seem to have been an awful coward all my life. Always turning away from things I didn’t want to look at. Refusing to admit them …’
He got up suddenly and came across to her, dropping his head upon her knees.
‘Darling Nell – it’s all right. I know I come first. I do, don’t I?’
She said: ‘Of course.’
Why did her voice sound so mechanical in her own ears? He did come first. Just now, with his lips on hers, she had been swept back again to those wonderful days at the beginning of the war. She had never felt about George like that … drowned … carried away …
‘You say that so strangely – as though you didn’t mean it.’
‘Of course I mean it.’
‘I’m sorry for Chetwynd – rotten luck for him. How has he taken it? Very hard?’
‘I haven’t told him.’
‘What?’
She was moved to vindicate herself.
‘He’s away – in Spain – I haven’t got his address.’
‘Oh, I see …’
He paused.
‘It’ll be rather rotten for you, Nell. But it can’t be helped. We’ll have each other.’
‘Yes.’
Vernon looked round.
‘Chetwynd will have this place, anyway. I’m such an ungenerous beggar that I even grudge him that. But, damn it all, it is my home. It’s been in the family five hundred years. Oh, what does it all matter? Jane told me once that I couldn’t get everything. I’ve got you – that’s all that matters. We’ll find some place – even if it’s only a couple of rooms, it will do.’
His arms stole up, closing round her. Why did she feel that cold dismay at those words: ‘A couple of rooms …’
‘Damn these things! They get in my way!’
Impetuously – half laughing – he held up the string of pearls she wore. He switched them off – flung them on the floor. Her lovely pearls! She thought: ‘Anyway, I suppose I’ll have to give them back.’ Another cold feeling. All those lovely jewels that George had given her.
What a brute she was to go on thinking of things like that.
He had seen something at last. He was kneeling upright – looking at her.
‘Nell – is – is anything the matter?’
‘No – of course not.’
She couldn’t meet his eyes. She felt too ashamed.
‘There is something … Tell me.’
She shook her head.
‘It’s nothing …’
She couldn’t be poor again – she couldn’t – she couldn’t …
‘Nell, you must tell me …’
He mustn’t know – he must never know what she was really like. She was so ashamed.
‘Nell – you do love me, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes!’ The words came eagerly. That at anyrate was true.
‘Then what is it? I know there’s something … Ah!’
He got up. His face had gone white. She looked up at him inquiringly.
‘Is it that?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘It must be. You’re going to have a child …’
She sat as though carved in stone … She had never thought of that. If it were true, it solved everything. Vernon would never know …
‘It is that?’
Again it seemed as though hours passed. Thoughts went whirling round in her brain. It was not herself, but something outside herself that at last made her bow her head ever so slightly …
He moved a little away. He spoke in a hard dry voice.
‘That alters everything … My poor Nell … You can’t – we can’t … Look here, nobody knows – about me, I mean – except the doctor and Sebastian and Jane. They won’t split. I was reported dead – I am dead …’
She made a movement – but he held up a hand to stop her and backed away towards the door.
‘Don’t say anything – for God’s sake, don’t say anything. Words will make it worse. I’m going. I daren’t touch you or kiss you. I – Goodbye …’
She heard the door open – made a movement as if to call out – but no sound came from her throat. The door shut again.
There was still time … The car hadn’t started …
But still she didn’t move …
She had one moment of searing bitterness when she looked into herself and thought: ‘So that’s what I’m really like …’
But she made no sound or movement.
Four years of soft living fettered her will, stifled her voice, and paralysed her body …